


Royal Pet

by Wooingsan



Series: Based on a Twitter Poll [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Based on a Twitter Poll, Breeding, Class Differences, Cockwarming, Courtesan Jung Wooyoung, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Hard Dom/sub, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Just a few moments from Woo's, M/M, Master/Pet, Modern/Fantasy Royal Fusion, One Shot, Prince Choi San, Restraints, Sex Toys, Slight feminization, Smut, Told from San's perspective 95 percent of the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wooingsan/pseuds/Wooingsan
Summary: Wooyoung wakes up with a trill, stretching his long, lean body against the sheets, before he freezes. Everything’s too quiet and he’s too alone. He shouldn’t have slept this long. The sunlight shouldn’t be this dim.His breath turns shallow. He does his best to listen, stops breathing. He pushes himself up on an elbow and rotates his head so, so slow.His eyes land on the armchair and he gasps.“I caught you.”ORSan is gifted a companion who’s more courtesan than advisor.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Series: Based on a Twitter Poll [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094444
Comments: 24
Kudos: 284





	Royal Pet

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on a two-day poll I ran on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/wooingsan/status/1292994989916672002)
> 
>  **The winning categories are:**  
>  Relationship: Woosan  
> AU setting: Royal  
> Conflict: Secret Relationship  
> Ok but how smutty: Pure Smoot  
> Any special kinks: Hard Dom/sub  
> Random element: Dragon Emoji
> 
> Please enjoy this short and smutty one-shot!
> 
> I also wanted to let my subscribers know that I'm working on something long, (we're at 33k and only three chapters in), so that's where I've been. I hope to finish the majority before I begin to post. I'll try to run some more Twitter polls to get shorter pieces up in the interim, but please know that I'm still writing every day!

“Go hide.”

Annoyed, Wooyoung pressed San against the bookshelf and nipped at his earlobe. “Again? We could play a game right here.”

“The better you hide, the better your reward will be.” 

Wooyoung paused. Then he huffed into his jaw. “You promise?”

San hoisted up one of Wooyoung’s knees, pulling him tighter against his side. His free hand slithered down from it’s favorite place on Wooyoung’s hips to press in just below the swell of his cheeks. “Promise.”

Wooyoung breathed out a moan, so quiet, so well trained. San blew into his open mouth.

“Go hide, pretty boy.”

Wooyoung nuzzled into him, pushing their bodies together even after San let him go. He trailed his fingers down San’s arm and, with a last bite to his ear, turned to saunter out of the room. At the door he looked over his shoulder and said, “Give me a two minute head start,” before blowing a kiss.

Then he was gone.

.:.:.:.

San’s father had three courtesans, all gifted at different milestones of his life: two before, one after he consummated the marriage with San’s mother. When San turned twelve, the king decreed the prince should have a courtesan too. He told San they could be very useful, very necessary entities for a young prince. San was reserved, filial, carefully following in his father’s footsteps. Grateful for his cautious son, the king procured the courtesan early, when San was only twelve, to give him time to warm up to the idea of having someone around whose only purpose was to quietly please.

So they brought home a woman clearly already of age, clearly older than San. A woman with round, heavy teats and a small waist and wide birthing hips. Meant to be his to fuck. 

He tried once. He liked how soft and pliable her breasts were in his hands, but then they brought Wooyoung home to be his companion and Wooyoung's ass felt the same way. 

It felt the same way but San preferred the pink between Wooyoung’s legs, preferred his thighs and his lean body and the way he let San spread his cheeks easy as pie. He liked the way Wooyoung moaned into his ears and always wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to tell him that he was his his his and San could do what he wanted because Wooyoung wanted it all. 

And Wooyoung quietly pleased him too, but only out of necessity. Only because his loud, loud wails would give them away.

Only because he was San’s favorite secret. 

So they switched. She became his companion and Wooyoung became his whore, and the three of them kept quiet.

And when San found her with the girl in the kitchen who smeared the jam on the tarts, they kept that a secret too. 

.:.:.:.

San always accompanied the king on journeys to the edges of their lands, to the mountains, where his father introduced him to the great villages living alongside the dragons. They visited once a year to show face and gain favor as they did with all the different regions in their kingdom. He brought San along for recognition and to learn how to navigate the land. The villagers of the mountain found harmony in synergy, where the dragons received regular offerings of sheep and goats while the villagers collected items the beasts brought back and discarded from far away hunts, deciding they had no use for them after all. 

Free for the afternoon, San made fast friends with children who were wild and free and rare, who showed him where he could collect piles of shed dragon scales. Over time that village became famous for their ornate and beautiful jewelry made of colors unseen, of iridescent tones in the smooth, solid scales. It was beautiful and strong.

It reminded him of Wooyoung. 

So he collected them each time. When he had enough, he broke them himself. He couldn’t let the palace stonecutter know he was making a gift or there would be questions. They might get caught. So he sanded the edges and strung them together and presented it to Wooyoung like they were courting for real. 

The nervous twist in San’s heart made it feel real, at least. 

Wooyoung loved it. Wooyoung wore it until the scales dug into his neck, until his body grew so much the necklace became a choker and he couldn't wear it anymore. 

.:.:.:.

Wooyoung was insatiable. He always found ways to touch San, to corrupt San, even in the most public of spaces. He would run his fingers along San's wrist, his shoulders. His facade as friend and advisor allowed him to stand behind while the royal family listened to citizen complaints, to pretend to lean down and whisper princely advice, to whisper dirty, dirty words instead. 

San loved it. San wanted it. San made it up to him in-kind, slipping his knuckles in Wooyoung’s mouth, his tongue on his neck betwixt the curtains in the hall. Slipping his fingers between Wooyoung’s thighs behind the snapping sheets of the clothesline. Slipping his dick into Wooyoung’s ass atop the satin couch cushions in the red, red parlor.

When they were together San's hips never grew cold, Wooyoung always pressed up against them, licking at his jaw, whispering moans when San's fingers slid below his waistband and teased against his rim. 

As they grew, they grew mad for each other. And with that realization Wooyoung understood that San was his too. So he got a little impertinent. He pushed his boundaries. He wondered how far San would let him go. 

So San had to bite back. He had to put him in his place. San had to take control, to push him into the sheets and bite him the skin-staining kind of hard, and that - that was what Wooyoung was looking for. That's how Wooyoung learned to call him Prince, how San learned to degrade Wooyoung straight into his subspace then caress him back out of it. That’s how they learned to balance their relationship perfectly, and how to touch each other, just right. 

When he discovered Wooyoung knew how special he was to San, San realized he was in trouble. So he demanded Wooyoung play games with him, play hard to get, to test their relationship and reassert San’s power in their sweet, precarious arrangement. Wooyoung especially liked hide and seek because of the suspense, the fear, and the really good rewards.

.:.:.:.

San finds him in the garden giggling against a tree, where he grabs his waist and spanks him for being too loud. 

In the kitchen he gets cupped through his trousers behind the flour, pushed back against the bread loaves, lips bitten until he’s breathless. 

Then he’s found in a side hallway behind the drawn curtains of a recessed window, dangerous and ripe for discovery. San yanks his underwear down and pushes him up against the panes and eats him out, eats until he’s full, eats until Wooyoung almost cums, his dick painting creamy streaks against the glass. He stands, pats him on the bum, and tells him to go hide again. But this time he should hide better. Good enough to win San’s cock.

Wooyoung delivered.

San looked for so long he had to applaud Wooyoung’s creativity. They grew up together, and he knew the hidden passages and secret doors and empty cupboards just as well. Apparently, he knew them even better.

Then San thinks about the places he’s least likely to look - and it dawns on him.

Wooyoung must be ready and waiting on his bed.

He pushes open the door to his chambers, quiet, swift, and finds him. He’s pretty and pink and cuddled into the pillows, body wrapped around one, tender soft penis resting before the storm. He’s asleep. 

He’s wearing the necklace San made for him when they were too young for this, when they were composed of cheek kisses and finger brushes. When he started putting it on again randomly, San thought he did it to tempt him, taunt him. Then he thought he did it when he wanted San to be gentle with him, soft. 

Then he realized Wooyoung did it as a reminder of his ownership. When he wants him to see that he’s his. That he belongs to Prince Choi San. 

That he’ll wear the broken scales even if they press divots into his throat, that he'll get in the nude and wait patient and pretty and sleep so, so sweetly in San's royal sheets. 

The image makes San want to slip out of his clothes, slide into the bed, and snuggle up behind him to kiss praises into his hair. 

He almost does. Almost. 

But Wooyoung’s asking him to prove that he was born to rule. 

.:.:.:.

Wooyoung wakes up with a trill, stretching his long, lean body against the sheets, before he freezes. Everything’s too quiet and he’s too alone. He shouldn’t have slept this long. The sunlight shouldn’t be this dim. 

San should have woken him up. San.

His breath turns shallow. He does his best to listen, stops breathing. He pushes himself up on an elbow and rotates his head so, so slow. 

His eyes land on the armchair and he gasps. 

“I caught you.”

.:.:.:.

They had a mutual safeword, one they’d never had to use.

They’d never had to use it because San knew Wooyoung’s body like he knew the way around the room blindfolded, like he knew every law in the books from decades of strict lessons. He knew what Wooyoung was feeling when his hands clenched a certain way, when his abs tensed, when his tongue curled. He knew that if he walked over to the bed and slid on top of Wooyoung that he would trill like a cat and lick up into his mouth and wrap his legs around him, lazy. He knew that if he ran his fingers down Wooyoung’s sides he would lift his hips just so San could trap them under his waist, just so he could press his thumbs into the divots, just to hold. He knew that he could push up his calves or grind his face into the sheets or drag him into his lap and Wooyoung would moan, moan, moan. 

He knew, he knew. 

Fuck, he was such a good boy.

But even the best boys need to be punished to be kept that way.

“Come here.”

Wooyoung shoots up, untangling himself from the down and the sheets. He almost trips when a lingering loop of bedding gets stuck on his toes. San was a half second away from bolting up and catching him mid-fall, but he swiftly cools down and calms his motions before Wooyoung can notice him coming to help. 

Wooyoung rushes over, slots in between his legs, falls to his knees. He’s so well trained. 

San indulges a little. He slants down to nibble Wooyoung’s lips because they’ve been playing for so many hours. He’s gone too long without claiming his baby boy’s tongue, his skin. Wooyoung opens his mouth for him, does his best not to kiss back, fails.

Wooyoung leans in, shuffling his knees forward ever so slightly, wanting to be closer. Shuffles between kisses. Shuffles again. 

San slaps him. 

Wooyoung’s face flies to the side more from surprise than the force. He blinks for a moment, stunned, before whipping his face back up to San’s and inching forward again. This time Wooyoung is ready when San slaps his other cheek. 

“Prince,” he calls in a whisper.

“You know what you’ve done wrong.”

“No, I...”

San slides a hand up his throat, over the choker, thumb landing on the soft spot just under his chin. He presses. “Tell me, pet.”

“I-I hid too well, Master?”

San presses harder, clenching the rest of his fingers around Wooyoung’s jaw. His mouth is forced open when San digs divots in his cheeks. His swallows only produce wet clicks, tongue driven over the backs of his teeth. 

“No, you slut. Is your pretty little head only good for sucking dick? Hmm?” 

Wooyoung whines and San yanks his face forward. He loses balance, hands falling to catch on San’s thighs, just covered by the hem of his fresh silk robe.

“Whores don’t belong in royal beds.” 

Wooyoung gasps and tries to look up at him, pupils exploding, clawing his thighs for purchase. 

San likes that Wooyoung is already naked. Likes the way he can watch Wooyoung’s arousal grow longer, pinker, darker, absorbing the degradation. 

“You thought you would do a piss-poor job of hiding from me all day and you’d still get to sleep in my bed? You really believed that whoring yourself every ten minutes meant your filthy body deserved beauty rest in my hand-stitched sheets?” 

Wooyoung shudders, eyes flickering between San’s in a panic. He’s unable to speak for San’s grip on him, but San knows what he would say. Knows how he would apologize and beg and flutter his lashes until San gave in. So he won’t let him. 

He knows Wooyoung lives for the contradiction between sweet, caressing touches and dirty, sleazy humiliation. San lifts him up by his jaw and angles his head back so far it exposes every muscle along his throat. He gives it a kiss.

“You thought you’d be slick and just get naked and prepped and take a nap while you’re at it? You think my standards are that low? No pet, you just come off looking like a desperate whore.” Wooyoung whines. “Oh I know you are, baby. I know you’re a whore and that’s all you’re meant to be but you have to do better than that. I know you’re pretty, but I can still get bored. There’s a lot of nice dicks out there, you know. If I wanted I could walk through the streets and pluck them off farm stands like cucumbers. And the asses I’m presented? I could line them up and stick my dick in each one and they’d feel so blessed the skies might rain gold and their dogs would birth bitches smarter than you. You have to give your Master a reason to stay interested, hmm?” 

San runs his fingers down the rigid tendons in Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung struggles, trying to climb up onto San’s thighs.

“Stay down. Even prize-winning lap dogs get punished on the floor.” San sucks Wooyoung’s distended tongue into his mouth, nibbles on the end, bites down too hard. Wooyoung tries to recoil but San won’t let him go, holding his face firm between his hands. Instead, San drops his tongue and licks over the wound to give Wooyoung something he likes. To tease. He draws away again. “Before you can even think about earning space on a royal lap or royal bed, you have to clean that peasant filth off your body, hmm? Who knows where you’ve been.” 

The minute San removes his fingers from his jaw Wooyoung is leaning up to kiss him. San lets him have the distraction as he slips his hands under Wooyoung’s thighs to throw him over his shoulder instead, limbs dangling, ass up. San slaps his cheeks once, twice, making sure his walk is extra exaggerated so Wooyoung jostles around a little more than necessary. 

He takes him into the adjoined bathroom. He throws Wooyoung in the round marble tub and dumps buckets of cold water over his head, buckets he prepared while Wooyoung was sleeping, telling him he’s dirty and unworthy. “Stray dogs need special care, you know.” Wooyoung shivers and curls up, peering at San with big eyes, tendrils of sopping wet hair slotting between his eyelashes.

Coals stoke low in his groin.

San throws a towel at him, too soft, too fluffy to get the right effect, and tells him to hurry up and dry himself off if he wants a chance at San’s lap. Wooyoung stands on shaky legs, lip wobbly, watching San slip out of the room with purpose. When he returns he finds Wooyoung wrapped up and waiting, still standing in the middle of the now-drained tub. Waiting for instructions. Waiting because he’s good.

San unravels his towel, bringing it up to Wooyoung’s neck, his temples, his ears. He pulls him to the edge so they can almost press their bodies together. He brings him in for a kiss. Wooyoung is eager. 

He thrives on being pulled up, pet soft and pretty and good, then dropped again, stepped on, made meaningless. Wooyoung loves the game. So San kisses him tender and kind until Wooyoung gets a little too clingy, until he starts to reach for San, too. 

San rolls up the towel and snaps him with it. “Bitches don’t get to touch their owners.”

Worshipped, condemned. 

San pulls him out of the tub and grabs him by the dick, hard. Wooyoung yips and stumbles forward, squeezing San’s shoulders when he realizes what’s being done. 

San slipped a cock ring on him. Actually, there’s two. San loves restraining him with a glans ring snuggled right below the tip, under the mushroom head. Right in Wooyoung’s favorite place. San thinks that it’s pretty and a pretty boy deserves jewelry, especially when it means he can stroke him and pet him and it’s never enough, always missing that favorite, favorite place. But one is insufficient and San snaps something around his base, his balls. Something elastic. They both know that it’s going to hurt. 

San kisses him on the cheek with a hum. A promise.

Then he slides a finger under Wooyoung’s choker and wags it forward, drawing him out. 

“Come here, pet.”

He trails after San into his office, a little too slow, body still wavering from the shock of the icy water, to find San already relaxed into the chaise. He stands naked in the threshold, shifting toe to toe. 

San tsks. “How do you think pets prove that they’re sorry, and that they’re good, hmm?”

Wooyoung chews his lip, uncertain. “By licking their master’s feet?”

“Some pets maybe. But what do lap dogs do?”

“T-they sit still and let their masters do what they please?”

San frowns. “Who is ‘they’?”

Gulping, Wooyoung corrects, “We. We let our Masters do what they please.”

San hums, then points at the desk. “Good answer. Bring the items on the desk for Master, too.”

There’s a long, sturdy ribbon. A leash. 

“In your mouth, pet.”

Wooyoung leans over and picks it up, tottling to San’s side. 

San caresses his cheek when he leans down to deposit it into San’s palm. “Come here.” He pats his robed lap. Wooyoung starts to climb on, but abruptly San pushes him away. “No, turn around. You don’t deserve to face me.” He slaps him on the ass when Wooyoung whines, legs lethargic, struggling to turn around. As he swings his foot almost hits San in the face and Wooyoung knows he’s in trouble. When San only gives him an icy look, that’s even worse. 

The moment the backs of his thighs touch San’s, San is shoving him down, hands fisting in his dark hair, grinding his face into the fabric, ass up. 

San’s fingers frequent Wooyoung’s body often enough that stretching him out requires minimal effort. After how much time he spent swirling his tongue inside him behind the curtains today, he knows this holds true. And if he slips straight inside and Wooyoung zings both pain and pleasure, that’s all the better. 

San moves his hand to mid-back and presses him down all the way, biting his asscheeks when Wooyoung accidentally lowers them, too. 

“Even high class lap dogs aren’t good for much, huh?” San shifts his hips to line himself up, using one hand to circle his tip around Wooyoung’s pink puckered rim, tapping it at the entrance. He likes watching the clench, the request to come in, have some tea and stay a while, and the fluttering expulsion to show off what a welcoming home this could be. San lets his member linger at the door, listening to Wooyoung whine as he tries to press back, wiggling incessantly.

San pulls away to a string of high pitched whimpers, Wooyoung looking over his shoulder in dismay. When he loops the leash to gag him and hold down his tongue, the whines morph into moans. San ties the other end around his wrists and extends them straight over his head.

When Wooyoung’s drool becomes overwhelming, San swoops it off his chin with a finger and inserts it directly inside him.

Wooyoung eats, breathes, and sleeps for San’s body in his. Anything - his thumbs, his tip, his toes. 

He is, unequivocally, San’s ideal baby boy. 

“It's not worth my time to prep a purebred fleshlight so you’re just going to have to take it. Do your job and sit on my dick like the good little bitch you are. I have more important things to do.” He grabs Wooyoung’s hips and slides him back straight onto the cock emerging through the slit in his robe. Wooyoung growls, low, hands stretched out in front of him, entire upper body laid out between San’s legs. Shifting them, San makes sure Wooyoung’s ass is as secure and close to his pelvis as possible before giving it one last reddening slap and picking up the pile of papers sitting off to the side.

San spends an hour reviewing testaments from a never ending pile of farmers' ordeals. He uses Wooyoung’s raised, round bum as a table for resting his documents, leaning his elbows into his supple flesh when he needs a change in position. He absently soothes his palms over Wooyoung’s hips, his thick thighs, until Wooyoung’s breathing slows and he resigns himself, relaxes, and falls into deep rumination enjoying how simply he can be of use to his Master. 

He would lick the bottoms of his feet, would be the carpet he walked on, all for Prince Choi San. 

Eventually San gets bored, tired of reading complaints and much more interested in the pretty thing on his lap. When he lets the stack flop onto the ground by the claw feet of the chaise, Wooyoung is roused from his bleary meditation. He tries to tense every muscle in his body, head to toe, waking them up from the comatosis of holding submission for such an extended period of time. His tongue taps against the completely soaked gag. 

Cooing, San collects the saliva on his fingers and rubs them along Wooyoung’s mouth, his eyebrows, the soft underside of his chin. Wooyoung doesn’t care if it’s wet and sticky. He leans into San’s fingers, nuzzling. San pets him, one hand holding his hip and the other bending down to stroke from the mid-shoulder up the crest of his tush, thumb dragging right before the seam where cheeks give way to a wide-stretched rim. He repeats the motion and pets up his body. Wooyoung stretches more for him, purrs for him, moans silent curses and drools for him. On his last stroke he drags his fingertips all the way from hairline to ass, then swoops down the side and around the front to finish with a slide over one half-baked package. Wooyoung mewls. San rakes his fingers over the length again, again, until loosely fisting and pumping him lazy.

It’s enough to make Wooyoung press his chest further into the couch, lift his ass higher to give San more access. San tugs at the flesh, sliding his fingers over the cock ring, down, teasing unyielding again and again.

Then San pulls him up flush against his chest. Wooyoung knows what that means. He loves this position because he loves what San becomes.

Teasing begins just under the head, the space where the meat blossoms out, the space where San’s fingers can hold up his cock and massage tiny circles just under the rim. It wrecks Wooyoung, everytime, but especially so when he wears the ring and San’s touch is dulled, insufficient, making him squirm and squirm and whine. When San teases one of his nipples and licks at the hairs on the nape of his neck, Wooyoung has no hope but to harden until his balls suffocate once again. 

“Oh pretty puppy, you like that? Like Master’s hands on your pretty little body?” San dips in the slit, thumb sinking into pre-cum. He nips at Wooyoung’s shoulder and laves over the old yellow-green marks. “You like pleasing your Master, hmm?” Wooyoung’s head falls back, the spit dripping down to pool on his collarbones, dribbling across his chest. “Ooh,” San purrs, “my good boy slicking himself up for me. So thoughtful, pet. So good for me.” Wooyoung ripples with tension, trying to touch himself or San or the cushions. Relentless, San tightens his grip on his hip, his nipple, biting hard into the exposed place between shoulder and neck. Wooyoung rolls around as San twists at his nubs.

“Oh pretty boy, do your tiddies hurt, hmm? Want Master to kiss them better?” He doesn’t wait for Wooyoung’s hazy whine, already lifting him up and turning him around in his lap, setting him down lightly above his hard, hard member. Wooyoung snuggles it under his asscheeks and the sensitive spots between his thighs. He ruts, rubbing his perineum and his overly pinched balls against San’s veiny length over and over again. San wraps his arms around his waist, lazy, licking long and slow up Wooyoung’s flexing abs until he flicks off the top of a bright red nipple. He sucks it in sloppily, looking up through his lashes at pretty gagged Wooyoung whose eyes roll back at the feeling and the view and the ownership, bound hands around San’s shoulders.

From somewhere below San procures a tub of oily lubricant, dipping two fingers and twirling the lid on again. San coats them up before adjusting Wooyoung and slipping his cock back inside, Wooyoung falling forward and melting along his chest. He drools into San's ears.

San holds him, pliant and sweet, as he fucks. 

Wooyoung knows San’s pleasure signs too. He knows him by the rumbles, the vigor, the bites that either get more aggressive or softer depending on the scene and the weather and the sex. So when Wooyoung feels him tense he nuzzles his bound cheek into San’s temple, encouraging him. Praising San for being good, too.

Wooyoung gives him a minute to pulse out his cum, waiting until San relaxes against him before nosing at his brow with a barely there whine. Humming, San kisses up his neck. He unties the fabric from around Wooyoung’s jaw, letting it fall with a damp smack onto his chest. He begins massaging the corners of Wooyoung’s mouth with his thumbs and working out the redness from being gagged for so long.

Wooyoung’s wrists stay tied.

The coals in San’s groin are scarlet, burning consistent and low. His pretty boy, his baby, his pet, lets him soothe the muscles of his face just a few moments longer before he whispers, “Prince,” before San allows him to lean in for the kind of wet, curling kisses that can only come from feasting on desire. 

San probably lets it happen a little too long, giving Wooyoung a little too much assurance, but he doesn’t care, not with his favorite slut on top of him, plugged up and proud, submissive and bound. His, by some gift of the dragons.

Wooyoung nudges his unfinished length into San’s abdomen. Sighing, San pulls away from the kisses with a long, drawn out suck on his lip, pulling them toward the middle of the chaise. Wooyoung isn’t expecting it and he falls into the pillows, catching himself on his elbows and hovering. Sliding out, San gets behind him.

“Ass up baby, don’t spill any of our fine wine, hmm?” He sucks a bruise into his thigh. “Let Master look.” He lays a line of kisses across the swell before thumbing Wooyoung’s cheeks apart. Wooyoung preens, sneaking glances over his shoulder and wiggling his ass until a milky drop dances out. “That’s how you treat the presents I give you? Ungrateful slut.” He slaps Wooyoung’s ass, hard, and the surplus of fat jiggles so impressively that a slurp of cum is bounced out of his rim. San’s quick to catch it on his palm.

He doesn’t want to ruin the furniture, after all. It’s an heirloom.

Impressed, San slaps again, the other cheek, at least two times harder. Wooyoung flinches, moans, loses control of his limbs and falls sideways into the fabric. A long train of white trickles down his angled thigh. San grabs a handful of ass and rotates it in circles, encouraging more of his cum to escape. It does. 

San licks up his leg and lands on his rim, cleaning him. He nibbles around the puckers until he’s extracted every drop, slipping a finger inside just to make sure he’s done. It comes out clean, like a toothpick sliding out of a perfectly baked cake.

Wooyoung’s a mess; he’s stunted words and breathy whines, fumbling hips and leaky dick. 

San loves him.

San swoops him up and takes him to the bed. Wooyoung tries to wind his fingers into San’s robe.

San knows how much Wooyoung loves his fluffy pillows, loves his bed, loves the luxury and what it means to be San’s concubine, his best boy. Loves the scent of privilege and sex that they ingrain there together. 

When he lays Wooyoung face down on the king-sized pillow he was snuggling when San first entered, Wooyoung immediately loops his arms underneath and sighs into the feathers. The cock ring binding his base is released, and Wooyoung groans his relief. San slips it down his length and trails his fingers back up.

He leaves the glans ring on because it’s pretty. He leaves it on because they’re not quite done.

“I saw you humping my pillow like a bitch in heat. Since it’s already ruined, might as well let you make a mess of it. We’ll have to discard that trash anyway.”

San instructs him to hump. It’s more to his benefit than Wooyoung’s since he’s still got a ring, but he loves watching him roll his hips into crisp white fluff, satin under his velvety pink cock and red-slapped cheeks. The muscles in his back shift as he moves, his lean body accentuating the divots and the curves just where San likes them. He ghosts his hands around Wooyoung’s waist to press his thumbs into the dimples. Wooyoung whines, knowing San could grab him, could fuck him, and wanting him to, but knowing he’ll do it when he damn well pleases. 

“Prince, Master, m-my tip.” 

San leans forward, covering Wooyoung but just barely touching. He nips at his ear. “Mmm, what about it, pet?” Wooyoung angles his hips up on a roll like he’s sneaky, trying to press himself into San. He scoffs and sits to the side, legs crossed. “You’re a greedy whore. Did you forget this was a punishment?”

“No Master no, but my - it hurts.”

“Good.”

San slides a finger into his ass like he owns him, setting his chin in his hand idly. He sighs, appeased, watching Wooyoung deteriorate. Just the bends of his joints tear Wooyoung apart. 

This is power. 

To Prince Choi San, this is the ultimate show of fealty and submission and respect. 

Wooyoung flips his head and blinks up. San decides he’s had enough. He throws off his robe.

San hoists a leg over his hips, extending until he covers almost every inch of Wooyoung's body. Holding Wooyoung still for a moment, he eases enough to tug off the ring, a little cruel with the kind. Wooyoung whimpers gratefully. Then San saddles Wooyoung’s ass and slides his dick in, straight down. 

San leans forward and breeds him.

He knows how this looks from behind - they did it just like this one day, in front of a floor length mirror so San could look over his shoulder and see Wooyoung’s full bum, rolling up as San sat on top of him, slamming perpendicular. 

His hips smack into Wooyoung’s fat thighs, fat ass, ripping out cries until Wooyoung hushes himself. His flesh ripples, attractive, and San digs in his fingers and attaches to his neck sucking low and discrete and so, so aggressive. He plunges faster, sucks harder, winds his arms around the pillow to blanket Wooyoung there too. He fucks him and bites him and riles himself up until he’s the one calling, "Woo."

That’s enough for Wooyoung to break. 

Wooyoung cums joyously, spurting straight into the pillow, a hot puddle pooling around his dick. He’s pressed against the down and fucked into the clouds by his Prince, his Master, his owner, his king. He moans, quiet.

He’s so well trained.

San knows what he did. He slides a hand down just to feel. He cups Wooyoung’s softening length and finds the syrupy slick seeping into his pillow. He narrows his fingers and feels it gush up in between, hot and thick and straight out of his baby. San shudders and shudders and bites Wooyoung’s choker and he’s burning and smoking and growling and cumming.

San releases again to the pretty pretty breaths huffing out Wooyoung’s lips. His gut flares supernova as he claims him again, his body expelling more than ever before. 

From the way Wooyoung purrs and sighs beneath him, he must think so too. 

Offering a few last splatters, it takes all of San’s willpower to remove his cum-coated hand from underneath their bodies and lift it to Wooyoung’s mouth. 

Obedient, he’s already sucking it down.

They collapse for a moment, just breathing, listening to the quiet of the room that sounds so pin-drop silent even against their perfectly hushed ministrations. They lay until San pulls out and Wooyoung winces, from the slide or the loss of San’s heat, he doesn’t know. He unties Wooyoung’s wrists and tosses the fabric to the floor before stepping away. Wooyoung doesn’t move until San returns from wherever, until San rolls him up in his arms and carries him to the tub. 

“Here, pretty boy. Let’s go clean up, hmm?”

The bath’s already filled with steam-roiling water. San steps in gingerly, letting Wooyoung’s toes hit the water first to acclimate him. Wooyoung jerks up at the heat, but dips his arch, then his ankle as San nuzzles into his hair. He lowers them in. 

Wooyoung likes to sit on San’s lap for the post-coitus praises. San likes that too. He props Wooyoung’s limp body against his chest and it’s all Wooyoung can do to look up. He lets his eyes slip shut while San whispers compliments and devotion and a sponge finds its way to his back. 

“Baby, my pretty boy. You did so good today baby, hid so well during our game. I couldn’t find you, you were so clever, you earned your reward. You did so good, played so well.”

Wooyoung rubs his cheek into San's jaw, hoping it’s enough to convey the message. 

“You’re so perfect for me, Wooyoung,” San breathes. He wraps his arms around him tighter. “So pretty, so sweet. So good to me, baby.” San decorates him with kisses and Wooyoung tilts his face. All the better to receive many more, the most. San smiles into his skin. 

He kisses Wooyoung everywhere, lips and jaw and neck and the ears. Oh the ears, when San dips his tongue inside and licks up the shell. He’s edible, crumbcake, warm and moist and ready for consumption. San kisses him deep, squeezing the sponge over his shoulders, over his hair, the warm streams of water slicking their lips and their kisses so wet and so good. Eventually he sucks San’s lips into his mouth, clings to his wet body. Clings to his man.

San holds him and licks into the spaces behind his ears. He cleans them, thoroughly.

Eventually he stands, lifts them out, towels them down and leads Wooyoung away, discarding the soiled pillow by the door to deal with tomorrow. San lays him into the sheets still naked and pink, just the way he likes. He sets his pretty collar on the shelf by the bed and weaves their limbs together to sleep. San kisses the base of his throat one last time. 

They slip into dreams, tangled.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying to write writing Hard Dom/sub, and to write something at this length!  
> Any feedback is appreciated!
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@Wooingsan](https://twitter.com/wooingsan).


End file.
